standing, staring, walking, driving

Victor’s place

Billows of flossy white hair start below his chin and continue unbroken way above his head. His face is a rich cocoa brown, creased like well-oiled leather by the decades and complemented by a pair of dark aviator glasses. A worn suit jacket completes his look.

He is Victor. Victor is ‘The Boss’. He is the custodian of this land. We are only here because he has allowed us to visit (along with a few hundred others). But just for the weekend.

We are seated in the sand at the edge of a pristine lake the colour of the sandstone rocks that surround us. A huge fissure in the rock wall ahead, carved by the timeless flow of immense annual floods, gives way to a smaller darker pool into which a waterfall tumbles.

Beswick Falls cliffs

The sun has finally lowered on a hot dry day. The immense white eagles are no longer hovering above us; the old women have stopped casting for turtles, barramundi and freshwater crocs and have put away their lines. We’ve stopped swimming and jumping from the rocks into the cool waters: we’re settling down for the show. Around us there are huddles of family groups of all ages, gathered around fires and wrapped in blankets with their dogs waiting for events to unfold.

Boating with the locals

Over the next three hours we’re treated to a corroboree. This is nothing like theatre we’re used to. There’s no curtain, no predetermined script, no polished manicured links between the acts. The whole experience is raw and earthy – like the natural amphitheatre provided by the towering cliffs.

Once the morning star pole is brought out, amid ceremony, and Victor has welcomed us, his son Tom E Lewis takes over to compere for the evening and call acts to the stage – or the sand in front.

Victor gets things rolling by leading the singing for the devil-devil dance. The acts that follow include immense drumming and singing of ‘Hip-hop kangaroo’ from the local Wugulaar School and teenagers breakdancing to a remixed version of a Bee Gees song. Later, elders tell us dreamtime stories and we learn how the Kingfisher stole two firesticks from the crocodile and now sports a forked tail to represent the stolen sticks.

Two different effigies of a Black Hawk are displayed to represent the totem of a recently departed family member. This evening is an important part of the grieving process. A video runs on a big screen showing images from his life and one of the hawks is burnt. The men from the family perform a lively song and dance with clapsticks and didgeridoo; it’s repeated over and over again with increasing intensity. Clouds of dust are rising under the pounding feet of the men dancing and stamping and audience members are invited to join in. The tempo rises and reaches a crescendo as Tom’s exaltation “just one more time” becomes a joke and groups of the crowd begin shouting out “one more time”. It’s an emotional, cathartic, healthy occasion.

Black Hawk

Tom came up with the idea for Walking with Spirits whilst standing on a cliff overlooking the lake. He’s an actor and musician who grew up in the Wugulaar community and wanted to develop an event where all families could come together. He means indigenous people and white people, everybody together having a good time and learning about each other’s cultures. The festival is supported by volunteers from the Australian Shakespeare Company (among others) and there is funding from Ian Thorpe’s Fountain of Youth foundation. This was the eighth year for the alcohol-free festival. Long may it continue.

Tom says “This place is medicine”. He’s right. We stay until Monday morning – as long as our permit allows, camping close by and taking every opportunity to swim and take in the atmosphere of this special country. Driving back out to the main road to Katherine and seeing the everyday traffic and the caravans the experience really hits home. Kakadu will have to be something really special to match up. That’s where we’re heading now, but we’d love to go back into Arnhem land sometime

Walking with spirits site - the day after

(nb: there are no photographs from the festival itself as only approved media are allowed to take images. We’ll post a link when we get one.)

I’m really glad (for you and us) you made it to Walking with Spirits, as it didn’t look very promising from the scattering of copied and pasted aritcles that google offered in response to a search. It must have been one of the rare occasions that you can experience a real sense of connectedness.
Thanks for being frequent and regular!
xxxx